


You're Getting Better All The Time

by PanBoleyn



Series: Made Our Way By Finding What Was Real [4]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Military!Mike, Non-Linear Narrative, Pre-Slash, legit!Mike
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:13:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanBoleyn/pseuds/PanBoleyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of snapshots covering the timeframe between the pilot and 2.09, in a world where Mike's an actual Harvard grad and was a member of the Air Force before that. Will not be in any particular order.</p><p>Chapter 8: It's mock trial time at Pearson Hardman. 1.07 tag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Where the hell is Mike? It’s becoming a question that Harvey asks at least once a day, in the weeks since he hired Mike Ross, and he’s really getting tired of it. Did they teach the kid disappearance tactics in the Air Force or something? If they did, Harvey might lodge a complaint with the Academy, or something along those lines. There has to be a way to tell them that training people to vanish is _annoying_. He’s not at his desk, or at the pretty paralegal’s office - Rachel, Donna’s friends with her if he remembers right - or in the associates’ break room.

 

This is getting ridiculous. But, eventually, he finds Mike surrounded by files and papers in the file room.

 

“As my associate, you’re supposed to be where I can find you,” Harvey announces. “ _Not_ in the basement file room looking for Jimmy Hoffa.” Really, Mike shoud get that he should be wherever Harvey expects him to be by now. Which, at this moment, would be at his cubicle. Harvey’s tone is more than irritated enough to cow most of the minions in the bullpen after having to play ‘Where’s Waldo’, but Mike only shrugs, looking up from the file he’s reading.

 

“I needed to move around for a little bit,” he says. “I figured you’d rather have an associate who’s harder to find but able to walk.”

 

Harvey raises an eyebrow and considers pointing out that he’s fairly sure Mike owns a cane in order to get around when that happens, but he doesn’t. Instead, he starts quizzing him on their new case now that the publishing one’s cleared up, a merger between Dayne Enterprises and Stark Corporations. Mike is supposed to be checking both companies’ bylaws because the eldest son of the Stark CEO, Brandon, is trying to object to the whole thing. Harvey’s client, CEO Alan Dayne, is furious at the delay, and by all accounts Richard Stark isn’t any happier.

 

“Brandon doesn’t have a leg to stand on,” Mike says, spreading some papers out over the table. “Here, take a look. The technicalities he pointed out are totally negated by this in the Stark bylaws, and this bit here in the Dayne ones backs that up.” He points out the places in question, rubbing his knee surreptitiously with his free hand.

 

It’s good work, Harvey notes; exactly what they needed to shut this spoiled idiot up. “Not bad,” he tells Mike, and then to show he’s not any good at hiding his actions, ads, “Why do you need to walk if it makes your knee hurt more?” He doesn’t care, he’s just a bit curious since it doesn’t seem to make sense. And, if Mike injures himself so he can’t come to work, that means Harvey will either have to pass the grunt work to one of the drones or do it himself.

 

“Better a little pain from moving - if I stay still too long, my knee goes stiff and it gives out on me. It used to happen a lot when I was at Harvard; I’d study for hours, go to get up, and topple over. I try not to carry my cane unless I’m having a really bad day, so it’s important I try not to make a bad day happen when it didn’t start that way. I’m in trouble then”

 

Without thinking, Harvey says, “How’d it even happen?” It’s better than saying something like Mike should carry his cane more often if it’s risky. What does Harvey care if the kid wants to push his limits, except that if he collapses in court it’ll make them look bad? He doubts that will happen, though; it sounds like Mike has some idea of what goes too far. He’d better, being a reflection of Harvey. They will have words if he doesn’t.

 

Mike shrugs again, but there’s a tightness to his mouth and a distant look in his eyes. Harvey finds himself thinking that he hates that expression and wants to chase it away, then tells himself not to be ridiculous. He’s so busy arguing with himself that he almost doesn’t hear Mike’s answer.

 

“Not much to it, really. Roadside bomb, shrapnel. They got it out, but there was nerve and muscle damage they couldn’t fix. I have good days and bad days. Most are in the middle, really.”

 

“That’s why you’re nervous in the car sometimes? Because you were in a vehicle when it happened?” Harvey’s noticed Mike’s tension in the town car, and the other day a car backfired and Mike had gone so white so fast Harvey’d actually found himself checking to make sure the kid wasn’t bleeding. He should have worked out that it was some kind of trigger; it seems obvious now.

 

“Partly,” Mike says, and he’s evading, there’s more to the story. But for once Harvey doesn’t press; Mike’s gathering up the papers now and that awful expression is fading. Harvey doesn’t really want to bring it back. Then Mike looks up, and there’s actually a faint grin on his face. “Careful, Harvey, someone might think you care.”

 

“Never. I just need to know in case you fall over or panic and people ask me why. Can’t have them thinking I’m unaware,” Harvey says with a smirk. Mike rolls his eyes.

 

“Of course, how could I be so silly?” he says dryly.

 

“No idea. Now, come on, time to shut up our misbehaving Stark.”

 

“Aye, aye, captain.”

  
Harvey doesn’t think that’s an intentional Captain Kirk reference, but it makes him want to grin anyway. 


	2. Pillars of Salt, Pillars of Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike needs to know Harvey's got his six. Harvey does - eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while the rest of 1.02 probably doesn't happen - Mike knows how to file a patent here, so that whole mess never gets started - I didn't see a reason Louis wouldn't try the same trick as in canon. And so, this. First episode tag of several.

Louis holds out the paper, the results of Mike's supposedly failed drug test, and Mike lets the cornered panic show on his face. It's real, if not for the reasons Louis Litt thinks. He knows the test is fake, because apparently he tested positive for marijuana. Mike hasn't smoked a joint in over a year.

 

He'd expected to maybe test positive for Percodan, since there's nights he needs to take it when his leg is at its worst, or the pain won't let him sleep. He's never thought to check how long that sticks in a system, and he'd needed a dose a couple weeks ago. But he has a prescription for that, which he could show if need be. This, though... He knows it's fake, but it's his word against a junior partner's, his supervisor. That kind of thing might not even get him the chance to demand a second test before he's fired.

 

Back at the Academy, Captain Todd told Mike he had a head for tactics, but not so much for strategy. He's good at thinking on his feet, not as good at long-term plans. So he figures out quick enough what he has to do for now. Win over Tom Keller. Without getting high.

 

That might get Louis off his case for now, but he'll still have that paper. Mike isn't sure what to do about that, so he shelves it. Tom Keller walks in, rolling his eyes as Louis tries to make small talk, and Mike’s on. Fucking showtime.

 

“Dude creeps me out, man,” Keller says. “And he never wears a towel. Ever.”

 

“Yeah, tell me about it.” He’s got a surfer-boy voice that makes Mike think of one of the guys he knew in Kuwait, and oddly enough that puts him at ease. He can pull this off. “Hey, I know you must hear this all the time, but. Totally addicted to your website, man.”

 

“All right. Who placed sixth in passing yards last year?”

 

Mike laughs. “Carson Palmer. 3,970. How many sacks did James Hall have?”

 

“Eleven?” Keller asks as he buttons up his shirt.

 

“Uh-uh. Ten and a half.”

 

“I know, I rounded up.”

 

Mike turns to him, lets himself sound a bit annoyed. “Well, your league doesn’t, or I’d have come in better than 20th.”

 

There’s a moment of silence, and then Keller looks at him, finally interested instead of ‘bored famous guy interacting because he has to’. “You’re Ross’ Raiders. Right?”

 

“Yeah. Mike Ross.” Mike walks over to him and they shake hands. Keller’s eyes flick to his knee - it’s a very good day so Mike isn’t really limping, but the scar is visible. Nothing’s said, though, nothing ever is.

 

“Tom Keller.”

 

“Good to meet you.”

 

Keller’s smiling now. “Congratulations, man. You’ve got a nice little team there.”

 

Mike makes a dismissive sound, and Keller continues. “No, if Roethlisberger hadn’t let you down, you would have been top ten for sure, I’m telling you.”

 

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you get high before the draft.” Mike hadn’t been high, but he gets the idea that he can at least pretend he did. After all, he’s supposed to win this guy over, right?

 

“You get high?”

 

Hook, line, and sinker. Mike evades actually getting high with Keller by saying, “No, man, I go back to work baked and my boss will fire me so fast my head’ll spin. Go ahead, though, we can just hang.”

 

Keller’s surprisingly cool with it, after they spend ten minutes trash-talking Mike’s boss, of course. Mike pictures Harvey’s expression and can’t help but grin. “Though, really, dude’s not so bad,” he says when they’ve finished with the verbal abuse. “We only hire the best where I work. Harvey’s a dick, but he’s good. And Louis? He’s a creep, but also good.”

 

When he gets back to the firm, Mike has never been happier not to have smoked up when Jessica Pearson gets into the elevator with him. He hasn’t spoken to her before, only seen her in passing, but... Maybe it’s the cool confidence of her, or just the fact that he knows she’s the Managing Partner, but he has the automatic urge to snap to attention and salute when she looks at him. He fumbles through an answer when she asks how it’s going with Harvey, partly because of that and partly because...

 

He asked Harvey his first day, who did he answer to more, him or Louis. Harvey said him. Well, if that’s true, then Harvey should be able to back that up by helping Mike get out of this.

 

\---

 

Harvey looks up when Mike enters the office, an oddly stoic look on his face. “OK, so, I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

 

“If the bad news is how Louis looks at the gym, I don’t want to know at all.”

 

Mike winces. “No. No, you don’t. But it isn’t. The good news is, I got the firm a client. You know Tom Keller, he runs that-”

 

“Fantasy football website. How did you bag him?"

 

"Louis, actually. He wanted me to get him for the firm. Which brings me to the bad news."

 

"You followed Louis' orders instead of mine?"

 

"Hey, I'm not the one who set it up that personal associates have to answer to the general supervisor as well as the partner that hired them. Anyway, no, that isn’t the bad news. The bad news is that Louis had my supposed drug test results and I failed.”

 

Harvey has a moment where he wants to throttle the kid for being that stupid before he picks up on ‘supposed’. “And you know they’re not the real results because...?”

 

“Because they said I tested positive for marijuana, which I haven’t smoked in over a year. I could have believed the pain meds I take at night sometimes - not sure how long they stick, but even if they did show up I’ve got proof of a doctor’s prescription. This... He set me up so I’d get high with Keller and win him over.”

 

That sounds like Louis. Devious, sneaky - a bit bolder than his usual, actually, because he had no real way of knowing that Mike had ever touched a drug in his life. “And you clearly didn’t get high - smart move, because if you’d come back here stoned you’d be fired - and yet you still got the guy. And stuck it to Louis in the process. I don’t see how this is bad news, Mike.”

 

Mike looks at Harvey like he’s a total idiot. "Because my supervisor has paperwork that says I failed a drug test."

 

"You answer to me."

 

"No, I answer to both of you because things are set up that way."

 

"Look. You beat him. Don't worry about it." He's afraid of Louis. Harvey can't get his mind around that, someone actually _afraid_ of Louis. "Now, here's the latest paperwork for Wyatt. Go file it."

 

"I have to worry about it. And I need to know if you'll have my back if things go bad."

 

Harvey leans back in his chair. "You asking me to fight your battles for you? Because if you can't handle yourself-"

 

"No. No, I'm not. I can fight my own battles. But if I need to fight someone who is my supervisor, a junior partner, and has been here what, ten, fifteen years? I'm a first-year associate who's been here a week. It would have been nice to know you had my six. But, clearly that's not the case, so I'll just go file this now." Mike grabs the folder off Harvey’s desk and walks out of the room as quickly as his bad leg will let him - he’s practically storming out. Harvey rolls his eyes at the kid’s dramatic display and goes back to work - for a minute, anyway.

 

“You don’t think that was a little harsh?” Donna says, standing in his doorway. Harvey shrugs.

 

“No. Kid’s gotta learn to fight for himself.”

 

“I know you’re not afraid of Louis, and I’m not afraid of Louis, but he can actually crush Mike if he wants.”

 

“No he can’t. Mike’s my associate; I’m not going to let Louis do that.”

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be telling _me_ that, Harvey.”

 

Well, shit.

 

Harvey tries to ignore what Donna said, but, well, it’s Donna. Ignoring the things she says is difficult, because she knows him well enough that she always knows just how to get under his skin with a few words. This is no different. And then there’s the look Mike gave him; angry, but hurt behind that. It’s only been a few days, and to say Harvey is uncomfortable with the mentorship role is to put it mildly, but he’s aware that he owes the kid... something. A little of what he got from Cameron - without the fraud - and Jessica.

 

Getting Mike’s real results is easy enough. Finding him is a little trickier; he’s in the file room, as it turns out, helping out a curly-haired associate Harvey doesn’t know. (He doesn’t know any of them but Mike, though, so this isn’t a surprise.) Said associate squeaks when he catches sight of Harvey, and promptly flees the room. Mike doesn’t even look up. “Harold, what’s the problem?”

 

“Harold has left the building,” Harvey says, and then Mike does look up, jaw clenching and straightening in his chair like he’s standing at attention in boot camp.

 

“I filed the paperwork for Wyatt, there was nothing else I needed to have done for you, so I was helping a friend out with the mountain Louis gave him.”

 

“I’m not here to question what you’re doing, Mike.”

 

“Then what do you want?”

 

And this is starting to get on Harvey’s nerves. Maybe, on some level, he deserves for Mike to be a little snippy with him, but this is bordering on going too far. “You do remember I’m your boss, right?”

 

Mike is silent for a moment, twirling a pen in his hand, and then he nods. “You’re right. What do you need me to do?”

 

“Well, I thought you might want to take a look at this.” Harvey slides the drug test results over to him. Mike picks it up and shakes his head.

 

“Completely clean, not even the pain meds I’m cleared to have. God.”

 

“I’m gonna go have a talk with him,” Harvey says, and Mike looks up.

 

“No. No way. I meant it, I can fight my own battles. What I needed was to have you in my corner going up against someone that high above me. And turns out you are after all.”

 

It’s the answer Harvey expected, and he nods. “Go easy on him,” he tells Mike, not meaning a word of it. Mike turns back, raising an eyebrow.

 

“You kidding? Not a chance.”

 

He walks out of the file room and Harvey grins. “Good boy,” he murmurs under his breath. He follows Mike at a distance; he won’t interfere, but he wants to see Louis get his ass handed to him. That’s always fun, and while watching Mike do it won’t be quite as fun as when Harvey gets to do it himself, he’ll still like it.

 

Although, if Louis tries anything like this again, it will be Harvey kicking his ass. Because while he wants Mike to fight for himself instead of clinging to Harvey, that doesn’t change the fact that Mike is his associate, his responsibility. And no one is allowed to mess with the people Harvey considers his, not unless they want to deal with him.

 

When those people can handle themselves, though, like Donna and apparently Mike, he’s willing to let them have the first shot.

 

\---

 

Louis holds out the cup and Mike shakes his head. “You can test me again, and I can trust that you won’t tell, except there won’t be anything to tell, Louis.”

 

Louis’ smug expression flickers for a moment before snapping back into place. “What do you mean, there won’t be anything to tell? Maybe you were clean before, but you certainly aren’t now.”

 

Mike knows he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, and he doesn’t even bother to hide it. “Except I didn’t get high with Tom Keller. I hung out with him and ate snacks while he got high - he was very understanding when I explained that I couldn’t go back to work high or my boss would fire me so fast my head would spin. We trash-talked Harvey for ten minutes and moved on. And speaking of Harvey, I called Tom Keller, and he thinks he’ll be best served by a combination of me and Harvey. I think you’ll be getting that call in the morning.”

 

Mike leaves the office after that, knowing that among other things Louis will probably be wondering if Mike is going to take this to Jessica. He probably could. But he won’t. Partly because he doesn’t want to be branded a tattletale, and he knows he will. Mostly, though, it’s because he’s already won, and he knew it the second Louis’ smug expression flickered.

 

He turns the corner and sees Harvey leaning against the wall. “Checking up on me?”

 

“Watching Louis crumble. It’s always so much fun to see.”

 

“Yeah, I know; I was forewarned about you two and your little rivalry. Think that’s why he pulled this in the first place? Screw with me, get one over on you by proxy?” Mike asks as they fall into step together. Harvey glances over.

 

“Probably. Makes it all the more satisfying that it blew up in his face, though, doesn’t it?”

  
Mike grins, and Harvey grins back when he says, “Absolutely.”


	3. Welcome to Pearson Hardman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike's first day - these people are something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a good bit of this is lifted directly from the pilot, with some tweaks. Also, if you're confused about the references to Mike and Harvey having a one-night-stand, let me direct you to the second fic of this series, 'Traveled All This Way For Something', where you get a little more intel about that. 
> 
> Misha is a nickname for Mikhail, near as I can tell, and Mikhail is Russian Michael. Anya thinks she's funny and calls Mike Misha on a regular basis; this goes back to their cadet days. Speaking of cadet days, Mike thinks about being a 'doolie'; this is a nickname for fourth-class (freshman) cadets, who pretty much go through hell their first year, from what I can tell.
> 
> For more on this series, snippets and updates and rambles, find me on tumblr at eidetictelekinetic.tumblr.com. Stuff for this is tagged 'air force au'.

“Christ, all these fancy high-rises give me hives. How do you stand it?” Anya asks, glancing over at Mike in the shotgun seat. He shrugs, a faint smile on his face.

 

“Same way I deal with wearing these suits. The suits are the uniform, the fancy buildings are the bases. Makes it all easier to work with.”

 

“Whatever makes you happy, Misha. Hey, what are you gonna do to get to work most days? I know you won’t drive, but you don’t like the subway anymore either. Bus?”

 

Mike sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe. I’d like a bike, but my leg can only handle that on really good days. Maybe a motorcycle but that seems a bit... inappropriate.”

 

“You could get a Vespa. Very European, which makes it sophisticated, right?”

 

Mike bursts out laughing as Anya pulls up to the curb outside Pearson Hardman. “I might have to take that under advisement. I don’t know what time I’ll get done, so don’t worry about me later, okay?”

 

“Yeah, sure. Good luck, and remember, no thoughts of kinky office sex!”

 

“Thanks, I might need it. Also, I hate you so much for that comment.”

 

Inside, Mike proves that even after Harvard he’s still a bit clueless because the receptionist tells him to sit down and he starts to go completely the wrong way. From chairs. Really? Of course, he’s not done yet. A woman approaches him, and wow, she’s gorgeous. Jaime would take one look at her and say “I need that chick to model for me, be my model-wooing wingman, Mike? I can be your get a date with her wingman afterwards.” She'd actually been half-decent as a wingman, he remembers.

 

He shakes off the imagined comments of his old housemate in time to hear what the woman is saying. “Mike Ross? Hi,” she says, offering a hand. Mike shakes it, and she continues. “I’m Rachel Zane, I’ll be giving your orientation.”

 

“Wow. You’re pretty.”

 

Oh hell, he just said that out loud, didn’t he? Judging from the look on Rachel Zane’s face, yep, he did. “Good. You hit on me. We can get it out of the way that I am not interested,” she says, with the dismissive, vaguely annoyed air of someone who gets a lot of this. Which maybe she does, Mike wouldn’t know.

 

“I’m sorry, I- I wasn’t hitting on you.” He knows he’s making it worse, but once he starts putting his foot in his mouth, it’s like he’s twelve years old again and just can’t stop.

 

“Trust me. I've given dozens of these and, without fail, whatever new hotshot it is thinks that because I'm just a paralegal, that I will somehow be blown away by his dazzling degree. Let me assure you, I won't.”

 

Mike still doesn’t think he was hitting on her - hitting on requires intent - but it’s probably best for all concerned if he just admits to being wrong. “I was.”

 

“You were.” Rachel hands him a notepad and a pen. “Take notes, I’m not gonna repeat myself,” she informs him before walking away.

 

“I love you,” Mike mouths as he follows her. And he kind of means it; considering the women he’s friends with, he likes the ones that don’t take any shit. Even unintentional shit.

 

“The firm operates on a chain of command model,” Rachel tells him as they walk, and Mike has to bite the tip of his tongue to keep from grinning or making a joke. “Harvey’s your commanding officer, however, Louis Litt, he oversees all associates so you’ll also answer to him.”

 

“Wow, that seems kinda messy. Two COs who I answer to equally? Whose bright idea was that?” Mike can’t help the question, and Rachel raises her eyebrows. “Sorry,” he adds hastily. “I’m just still used to the military, I guess. A little more clear-cut there. Most of the time. So, what do you think of Harvey?”

 

From the look Rachel gives him, he’s being an idiot again. “People are in awe of him. They say he’s the best closer there is, but I have very little contact with him so I wouldn’t know.”

 

“What about Louis Litt?” Mike already has some idea about Louis Litt from Harold, but Harold, good as he is at the writing parts of practicing law, is one of the most skittish people Mike’s ever met. Rachel, so far, doesn’t seem like the type to be easily cowed by anyone, so he might get a better impression from her.

 

“Let’s continue with your tour.”

 

Well. That doesn’t sound promising. Maybe Harold wasn’t exaggerating, in which case one of Mike’s first questions for Harvey will be to find out exactly how it works that he answers to two different people. If he’s going to have to balance it, he’ll need to know who comes first.

 

The tour continues, eventually ending up at a room filled with cubicles. “And this is where you’ll live,” Rachel says, then scowls at his notepad. “I gave you that for a reason. You haven’t taken a single note.”

 

“That’s... because...” How exactly does a woman the same age as Mike make him feel like he did when his eighth grade English teacher reamed him for doing a book report presentation without notecards?

 

“Because you’ve been too busy ogling me to listen to a word I’ve said.”

 

OK. Mike actually thinks he might like this Rachel; he might be a bit annoyed right now, but he likes her take-no-shit attitude. Anya’s fault, he decides; since he’s met her that’s the type of woman he likes best, both romantically and not. But he doesn’t really like his ability to pay attention to important things being called into question.

 

“Partner’s offices anchor the wings; fifth floor’s research, sixth is security. Any work gets billed even if it’s finding an address. I answer to Harvey and Louis Litt with no clear distinction as to which C.O. is actually my real C.O.. That is going to suck for me at some point, I can already tell, because from the way you answered my questions I should be in awe of Harvey and fear Louis, which backs up what my friend who works here already told me before my interview. You’ve been here five years and just because I outrank you, doesn’t mean I get to command your services.” She stares at him, clearly taken aback, and Mike can’t resist, even though he knows it’s probably going to piss her off.

 

“Oh, it’s also clear you think you’re too smart to be a paralegal. That about cover it?”

 

“You know,” Rachel says after a moment. “Nobody likes a showoff. Also, I think you’re taking my commanding officer analogy a little too seriously.”

 

“I’m ex-Air Force, you were speaking my language.”

 

“A flyboy? Oh, this is gonna be fun...” Rachel laughs, turning and starting to walk away.

 

“Why do people keep insisting on _calling_ me that?” And when did he go to see Harvey, exactly?

 

\---

 

“I might have to let you go,” Harvey says as soon as he sees Mike in his office, and Mike stands up, frowning.

 

“Wait, why?”

 

“I just got reamed out for lying to a client, I’m apparently not getting my promotion after all, which means the position you were hired for no longer exists,” Harvey explains, tone brusque as he crosses to his desk. Mike’s eyes narrow thoughtfully.

 

“Did your boss know you lied?”

 

“Yeah, she was right there - are you going somewhere with this? Because I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

 

Mike shrugs. “Well, it’s my job on the line here, right - you still have yours. But I mean, if she knew, she’s just as culpable, right?”

 

Dark eyes light up, bringing back a very ill-timed flash of memory, those same eyes gleaming with amusement in a club’s dim lighting. But Mike barely has time to relive the moment and push it back before Harvey’s grinning at him and he has even more memories to suppress. Fucking hell, he’s going to have to do better than this.

 

“I like that. You get to stay.” He leaves the office without another word, and Mike’s left staring after him in bewilderment.

 

“People sure do come and go quickly around here,” he mutters, adjusting his tie. For all his explanations about uniforms, Mike’s still not a huge fan of ties. It’s why he prefers the skinny ones, aside from the mild defiance of them; they’re a little more comfortable.

 

“Not bad, new kid.” Mike looks up to see Donna leaning against the door, giving him a considering look. “Not limping so much today, I see.”

 

“Didn’t have to climb three flights of steps today,” Mike tells her with a grin. “So, I’m told you’re terrifying.”

 

The grin he gets in return is terrifying, as it happens. “Really. And who told you that?”

 

“I can’t reveal my source - you might eat him, judging by that look on your face. But I’ve heard you know everything, and that I’d better make sure you like me. So, with that in mind, Ms. Paulsen, how does one make you like them?”

 

“Your idea not blowing up in Harvey’s face might be a start. I also take offerings of chocolate and coffee,” Donna tells him. “Oh, and never call me Ms. Paulsen again, it’s like you’re accusing me of being old.”

 

“Never. Specific coffee order?”

 

She rolls her eyes at him. “You think I’m going to make it that easy?” She walks back to her desk after smirking at him in a way that makes him grin to himself. He doesn’t know if Donna Paulsen, firm spymaster (according to Harold), likes him yet, but he’s pretty sure she doesn’t dislike him, and that’s a start.

 

Now, if - oh, and there’s Harvey, walking back with a new spring in his step. Whatever maneuver Mike’s point inspired, it must have worked. He’s got a file in his hand, which he tosses to Mike.

 

“Your first case.”

 

\---

 

Louis Litt doesn’t look like the terror of Harold’s stories, but Mike remembers a guy from the set-up in Kabul who looked like a stiff wind might blow him away, but it turned out he could kill you ten different ways with a damn fork. He’d been one of the agents from an unspecified agency, not one of the code-writers like Mike, but even so. Underestimating Louis might not end with Mike bleeding out from fork wounds, but the lesson of not making assumptions is one he should still probably apply here. Especially since Rachel seems to back Harold’s opinion up. He sits down across from Louis and waits to see what’s up.

 

“I know you had orientation from Rachel, but I’d like to give you a special welcome from me,” Louis begins. “Among other things, I’m sort of the disciplinarian of the associates.”

 

This... is beginning to sound vaguely familiar, somehow. But Mike’s memories of Harold telling him about his first day at Pearson Hardman are vaguer than his memories usually are - might have something to do with the kitchen in the Boston house being filled with smoke during the phone call. Connor had decided to try and cook again. Never a good thing.

 

Someone else sticks his head in the door - another associate, it looks like. “You wanted to see me?”

 

“Yes, please. Come on in, Gary,” Louis says. “Mike, this is Gary Lipsky, one of our promising associates from last year.” Mike shakes the other guy’s hand, and he can’t help but notice what looks like part of a mailing ink stamp smeared on the edge of his hand. That’s a little odd, isn’t it?

 

“Gary, Ms. Pearson asked me if you’ve completed the Petramco filing.”

 

“My brother was in over the weekend...”

 

“This is the third time I’ve asked you,” Louis says, voice going hard.

 

“I’ll get right on it.”

 

“Don’t bother. You’re fired.”

 

“What? You can’t -!”

 

Louis stands, and suddenly, he actually does look kind of intimidating. Mike’s impressed, and would be more impressed if something wasn’t niggling at him about all this. “I can. And I did. Go pack your things, and don’t ever show your face here again.”

 

Gary flees the office, and Louis turns back to Mike. “I arranged for you to see that because we pay our associates very well and provide the opportunity for unlimited advancement. But in return, we expect results. Have I made myself clear?”

 

“Yes,” Mike says.

 

“Welcome to Pearson Hardman.” Louis goes back to some paperwork on his desk for a minute, then looks back up at Mike. “Feel free to get back to work.”

 

Mike leaves the office and goes back to his desk, twirling his pen in his fingers as he racks his brain. He tries to tune out the memories of smoke, Connor swearing a blue streak and Jules mocking him even as she sprays the fire extinguisher.

 

“ _And when he pulled me into his office, I was only there a minute and he fired this poor guy, Jake Carter_ ,” Harold had said, talking about his supervisor, Louis Litt. No one else at the cubicles is whispering about someone who just got fired - Mike knows these guys; at Harvard almost everyone secretly (or not-so-secretly) was gleeful when someone else fucked up. But nothing.

 

It’s weird. And Louis just happened to have someone who could be fired in front of the new hire when both he and Harold got their jobs? It’s possible, and the ink smear doesn’t have to mean anything, but...

 

Christ. He thought he’d left cloak-and-dagger bullshit behind in Kabul. Not cool. Although, Mike has to admit it is pretty clever in a nasty way. He needs to find out, though, who exactly he answers to first here. He’s got Harvey’s number in his cell, so he fires off a text. **I just met Louis Litt, he says he’s the associates’ disciplinarian. Do I listen to him or you?**

 

His phone buzzes with a response about twenty minutes later. **You’re bothering me for this? Don’t be an idiot, you’re my lackey, ignore Louis.**

 

Somehow, Mike thinks that’s going to be easier said than done. On the bright side, being called a lackey does make it easier to lock down memories of being his boss’ one-night-stand nine years ago. The word stings, but at least it’s useful? And, he has to admit, pretty much an accurate label for his position.

  
Can’t be worse than being a doolie, he figures, and then gets back to work on Nancy’s case. Harvey was right earlier - if this bastard’s pulled this shit once, he’s done it another time. Mike just has to figure out who else he did it to.


	4. Where Your Loyalties Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey knows how this can end, this loyalty to someone who doesn't deserve it, but there's only so much he can do, really.

Mike’s using a cane. They’re in a huge mess with McKernon Motors and this is pretty much do-or-die time. The meeting is today. But even with all this, Harvey finds himself distracted by the sight of the metal cane gripped in Mike’s hand. He knew the kid had one, but actually seeing it is bothering him, and he doesn’t know why.

 

He doesn’t ask though, even after Stensland fires them. He doesn’t let himself ask for the rest of the day; he lets it go. He needs to come up with a plan. And when he gets it, when he goes to get Jonathan and sends Mike to talk Dominic around one last time, he’s too focused to even think about it.

 

But when Mike still has the damn thing the next day,  Harvey keeps quiet only until they’ve pulled the rug out from under Stensland and are on their way back to the office. “Having a problem lately?” he asks, as Mike maneuvers the cane into the best space he can get in the backseat, then shifts his leg with a wince.

 

“You could say that.” Mike’s not looking at him, instead staring fixedly out the window. The kid’s got a shitty poker face, or more likely he’s just not bothering to try.

 

“Does your knee injury also affect your ribs?” Because, yeah, Harvey noticed the kid’s having trouble with that too.

 

“I - I’ve got this friend, Trevor. He’s into some messed-up shit, and, uh, he didn’t take my offer to help him out too well.”

 

“He messed up your leg?”

 

“We got in a fight.”

 

Harvey’s been in his fair share of fights, including some with friends. A friend doesn’t aim for an injury like that. But he gets the feeling that Mike considers himself equally culpable in the fight (unlikely seeing as Mike’s trained and this Trevor guy probably isn’t), and in any case, it’s not really Harvey’s business. Or so he tells himself at the time. Then, of course, barely a month later, Mike answers his cell phone in _the middle of a meeting_ , and his expression speaks volumes. A friend into messed-up shit... So now it is Harvey’s business, and he asks about it; even though they’re in the middle of messes with Joy and Ray, he wants to know.

 

“When your phone rang, who was it?”

 

Mike gives him a classic deer-in-headlights look, then shrugs. “It won’t happen again.”

 

“Who was it? A friend who had you using a cane last month?”

 

“I end up using my cane several times a year, regardless. Look, Harvey, this really isn’t any of your business, all right? Trevor’s an old friend, and I’m dealing with it. I promise it won’t affect the job again.”

 

“It better not.” Harvey’s not a babysitter, and Mike’s a grown man, an ex-military officer besides, so he lets it go again, gives the kid another chance to take care of things. His instincts are telling him not to do it, but he does. Even when Mike shows up at Joy’s with a tear in his jacket that he’s oddly defensive about. Harvey bites back the questions, and the decided opinion that Mike needs to drop this Trevor person.

 

However, when Mike’s phone goes off again, this time in the middle of Ray’s trial, all bets are off. It’s affecting the job when Mike leaves the courtroom and doesn’t come back, giving Harvey carte blanche to chase him down. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, leaving in the middle of a trial?”

 

Mike rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Nothing you say can stop me.”

 

Mike tries to go around him, and Harvey stops him with a slight push, both hands against the younger man’s chest. “Then tell me, what the hell’s going on?” He’s willing to help, not for Trevor’s sake, but because he understands loyalty. Even to people who have lost the right to it, which makes him think of Cameron until he pushes it aside. And it’s pretty clear Mike will insist on doing something, so if Harvey helps, this will be over with faster. It also means he can make sure Mike doesn’t do anything too risky to help his friend, not that it matters.

 

The plan to bluff Trevor’s ‘business associates’ comes easily enough. The added touch of shipping Trevor to Montana is a harder sell, but as Harvey points out, the smartest move for the guy is to get out of town. So Mike has to agree. Harvey keeps to himself the fervent hope that Trevor stays gone, a hope that gets even stronger when he watches Mike and Trevor say goodbye, ridiculous handshake and all. It sets his teeth on edge, and he’s not sure why.

 

When Mike’s back where he belongs, next to Harvey in the town car, Harvey says, “So, explain this to me. You’re a smart guy. I know you have other friends, I’ve seen the photos at your cubicle. Why can’t you cut a drug-dealing junkie loose?”

 

“He is my oldest friend, Harvey. I can’t just - I mean, you just went to bat for your friend.”

 

They have a substitute driver for the day, so Harvey doesn’t mind having this discussion now. “I’m loyal to Ray because he’s loyal to me.” Mike doesn’t know about Cameron, will never know if Harvey can help it. Misplaced trust almost drew him down a bad road; he doesn’t want to see Mike go that way, but he’d prefer not to divulge his own secrets to stop it if he has the choice. So... “I met Ray when I left my wallet in a limo he was driving. It had three thousand dollars in it, and he tracked me down to give it back. None of the money was missing. And when this accident happened, his first thought was to make sure we were OK. What’s Trevor done for you lately except violently reject your help and drag you into his mess?”

 

Mike studies him, twisting the Academy ring on his left hand. “He was there for me. When I was the new, nerdy kid at school, and later. After my discharge, I was - a mess. Anya was still finishing her five years, Bianca was getting her business together, and I didn’t know the others then. Trevor came to see me, he stuck around until I was back to myself again. I needed someone, and Trevor stepped up.”

 

Harvey’s not expecting that, and Mike continues in the face of Harvey’s silence. “I wouldn’t be here without him; he reminded me that I still had a dream to pursue, that life wasn’t over even though it felt like it.”

 

The idea of Mike giving up like that, of him not being here, bothers Harvey more than it should. But it doesn’t really change his opinion on Trevor. “You should cut him loose, Mike. He’s just going to drag you into trouble again; it’s what addicts do.”

 

“He smokes _pot_ , Harvey. He’s not doing the hard shit.”

 

“He’s dealing, regardless of what he’s using. You know I’m right about this.”

 

“It’s not that simple, Harvey.”

 

It is; the facts are just that simple. But Harvey knows it’s not really about fact, here. He’d love to just tell Mike to cut all ties with Trevor. He would, if he thought it would work, even knowing that directing Mike’s personal choices is far beyond his purview as a boss. He’s crossed that line already today; he’d do it again. But he can see it won’t get him anywhere, so he shelves it for now, thinking that Trevor is enough of a fuck-up that he’ll give Harvey an opening later without meaning to. And when that happens, Harvey will take full advantage, and push until Mike lets this idiot go for good. But he can be patient for now.

  
Besides, they’re back at the office, and this conversation is out of place there. Or so Harvey tells himself.


	5. Only When I Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two times Harvey catches Mike asleep, one time he makes him sleep, and the time Mike catches Harvey.

Mike’s asleep at his desk, which explains why Harvey doesn’t have the Beckett file on his desk already. It had better be finished, he thinks as he approaches Mike’s cubicle. The bullpen is all but deserted - it’s late, and normally Harvey wouldn’t still be here but he prefers staying late than coming in early when extra time is needed.

 

No, it has nothing to do with him being as far from a morning person as it is possible to be.

 

It doesn’t matter why he’s here anyway, just that he is, and that Mike is supposed to be in his office with finished work and instead he’s slumped over his desk, asleep. He doesn’t wake up when Harvey approaches, purposely walking a bit loudly, probably because of the headphones in his ears. Harvey rolls his eyes, reaching down to shake Mike awake.

 

It’s not that he’s forgotten that, during Mike’s first week, he mentioned that if he’s ever caught sleeping, it’s best to wake him up by calling his name, not touching him. Mike has headphones in, Harvey figures he won’t hear anything else, and besides, Mike didn’t actually give a reason, so it can’t be that big of a deal.

 

He shakes Mike’s shoulder again, and then things happen really fast. Mike jerks upright, one hand reaching back and wrapping tight around Harvey’s wrist. There’s a slight pull like Mike meant to tug Harvey forward with that grip. Only then Mike looks at him, and Harvey sees there’s fear and something more dangerous in his unfocused blue eyes. Then Mike focuses, sees he’s looking at Harvey, and then lets him go. “What the _fuck_ , Harvey,” Mike snaps, and it’s not just-awake grouchiness, it’s real anger in the kid’s voice. “I told you -”

 

“What the hell was that about?” Harvey asks instead.

 

Mike shakes his head. “I told you,” he says, voice calmer but still holding more than a little anger, “not to shake me awake. There is a reason for that, you know.”

 

“I thought you were basically a paper-pusher, most of the time,” Harvey says carefully. He knows Mike was injured by a roadside bomb, but that’s because he was in a convoy at the time. He’d said at the interview that he worked in intelligence, codes and that kind of thing. Isn’t that mostly paperwork?

 

Mike laughs. “I worked in an intelligence installation that wasn’t even on official records. Yeah, I was one of the guys who stayed at HQ, but I worked with people who didn’t, and there’s… Actually a lot of downtime in war. They taught me some things, OK? And these days my instincts assume ‘attack’ a little too quickly. When I said not to wake me up like that, I was trying to avoid something like this.”

 

If Harvey were another sort of man, now would be the time to apologize. But he isn’t and he doesn’t. He does nod, before asking about the Beckett file. Turns out Mike finished it before taking his little nap, so Harvey takes it and then looks Mike over. He’s pulled two all-nighters in a row, Harvey knows, and he was limping a bit too obviously today. “Go home, kid. Get some sleep.”

 

His tone is quiet, almost subdued if he were anyone else. It’s as close as he can come to apology, and Mike nods and leaves with a slight smile that says he knows, and everything’s fine really.

 

\---

 

The second time Harvey catches Mike asleep (or dozing off, really), it’s actually in his office. They’re pulling a joint all-nighter this time, trying to figure out how a simple merger went completely to hell. Personally, Harvey blames the pre-nups written by someone out in Los Angeles who was clearly an incompetent, but really there’s decades of mess in this. He can’t even blame Mike for dozing, not really, and it’s kind of amusing to watch him swaying a little in the chair. Amusing, but he really needs the kid’s memory right now.

 

Mike’s headphones are nowhere to be seen, and even if they were Harvey wouldn’t be shaking him awake again. He tells himself it’s because Mike’s grip was actually hard enough to bruise, and it was hard enough making sure no one saw that the first time around. If he actually has to explain finger bruises on his wrist, there is no story he can come up with that isn’t somehow embarrassing. At best.

 

It doesn’t have anything to do with the look in Mike’s eyes before he woke up properly, the look that made Harvey realize he has no idea what Mike’s seen in his old life. What he maybe experienced.

 

So Harvey shakes his head, and clears his throat loudly. No response. “Mike?” Still nothing. Harvey raises his voice.“Mike, wake up.” And still, absolutely nothing. With an eyeroll, Harvey leans back in his chair. OK, Mike said wake him up by calling him, but that apparently doesn’t work. So how -

 

And then he grins, because he thinks he has an idea. Putting on his best drill sergeant voice, he snaps, “Cadet Ross, attention!”

 

Mike jerks awake, eyes flying wide open. “Sorry, sir, I-” He cuts off abruptly as he realizes where he is - or, possibly, he stops talking because Harvey is now laughing his ass off. He couldn’t help it; Mike looked like a scalded cat for a second there.

 

Mike glares, but after a moment he laughs too. “Now, see, that is a good way to wake me up.”

 

“I have to agree there,” Harvey says, still chuckling.

 

“You’re never gonna let me live my reaction down, are you?”

 

Harvey gives him a mock-pitying look. “You have to ask?”

 

\---

 

The third time, Harvey doesn’t catch Mike sleeping. Louis managed to get all hands on deck - including Mike’s - for a class-action suit. On top of that, Harvey gave Mike temporary clearance to take files home for a copyright fraud case he’s been working for about the same amount of time. Work finished on Louis’ case yesterday, but Harvey still needed Mike to finish some paperwork for him. Mike comes in leaning on his cane, which Harvey knows by now is a sign the kid’s feeling like shit because he hates using his cane. He’s come to dislike the sight of the grey metal in Mike’s hand himself, though he can’t quite figure out why.

 

“Here’s the precedents you wanted,” Mike says, dropping the file onto Harvey’s desk and turning to go. Harvey glances at his watch. They’re due in court in four hours for a trial he didn’t manage to avoid, and Mike looks like the walking dead.

 

“Mike.”

 

“Yeah?” Mike turns, blinking slowly at Harvey like he can’t quite figure out what Harvey could possibly want. Harvey gets up, crossing over to Mike and pushing him back a little, toward the couch.

 

“We need to be in court in four hours, and I need an associate for my second chair, not a zombie in a suit. Take a cat nap.”

 

Mike blinks again. “On your couch?”

 

“On the floor if you want, but anywhere else someone will wake you up and that defeats the purpose. Now lay down before I change my mind. And don’t drool on the leather.”

 

Mike huffs out a sound that’s probably meant to be a laugh, and then all but collapses onto the couch. He’s asleep in moments, and Harvey has a moment of envy. Even when he’s dead tired, he can’t fall asleep that fast. He tosses and turns and never quite manages to get comfortable. The kid probably learned it in the military. They teach that sort of thing, right?

 

Harvey pages through the file Mike brought him, but he finds he’s unusually distracted by the sleeping associate. It’s not that Mike snores, or even talks in his sleep loudly. It’s little things, small sounds and minute shifts, Harvey seeing Mike’s brow furrow when he wakes up. It’s clear that whatever he’s dreaming about isn’t good, and Harvey kind of wants to wake him up. He can’t figure out why he even notices Mike’s distress - in college he learned to tune out metal music turned up to peak volume courtesy of his asshole roommate.

 

So why the hell is he not only unable to tune out Mike’s quiet sounds, but is more than a little bothered by them? Harvey has no idea, so he tries not to think about it. He’s relieved when he wakes Mike up three hours later, though; he doesn’t have to listen anymore.

 

\---

 

The case Mike’s working is his own - pro bono custody case. It’s tricky because he’s got to work with both American and Portuguese laws, so by the time he’s ready to head home it’s close to midnight. On impulse, he swings by Harvey’s office on the way out.

 

He and Donna both hoped winning Clifford Danner’s case would get Harvey back to normal, but so far no luck. He’s still going back through all his old cases, trying to prove to himself that he didn’t put away any more innocent people. So Mike isn’t surprised to see that the lights are still on . He is surprised when he gets closer and sees that the file boxes have been upended, their contents spilled over the floor like someone flipped them in a moment of temper. And ‘surprise’ doesn’t begin to cover it when he notices Harvey sprawled out asleep on the couch.

 

Mike’s first thought is to wake him up, but the thing is, even Harvey hasn’t been able to hide how much sleep he’s not getting. And Mike knows that if he wakes Harvey up, the older man will go right back to his search.

 

Mike knows he can only help Harvey so much with that - for one thing, Harvey isn’t really letting him try, and so Mike also can’t get the information on Cameron’s style to know the tell-tale signs to look for. He’s been hoping for a chance to try and take over for a bit, but he doesn’t think it’s going to happen. As it is, he looks at his sleeping boss and sighs. “You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself,” he murmurs, scowling. He keeps his voice quiet so Harvey doesn’t wake up, but he feels better for having spoken his thoughts aloud even if no one else can hear.

 

He can’t help, but he can at least clear this mess up.

 

It’s been a bad day, so Mike has his cane, but he leans it against the little-used table in the corner. He doesn’t need it to move around the office as he gathers up the files, or when he perches on the coffee table to sort them out. Also, even on carpet it makes noise.

 

Eventually he’s got all the files organized and back in their boxes. Then Mike gets up and fishes through Harvey’s jacket pockets - the jacket is hanging on the back of Harvey’s desk chair, which is why he can pull it off. He’s looking for Harvey’s cell phone, and when he finds it Mike sets an alarm for seven AM. Donna gets in around 7:45, the other admins around the same time but usually a bit later, and the rest of the big shots around eight. So seven will give Harvey enough time to wake up before anyone will see him. Mike can guess how much Harvey would hate to get caught.

 

Mike grabs his cane, then goes to set the phone on the coffee table. He makes the mistake, then, of looking up at Harvey. His boss looks different asleep - younger, unguarded, the recent stress gone for the moment. It makes Mike think of that night again, even though he knows now Harvey’s charm then was a different sort of guard. Makes him think of dark laughter and a lazy smirk, and oh God, Mike just wants. He can’t, but he does.

 

The trouble is, Mike thinks ruefully as he makes himself leave, is that he craves that now. Not the sex bit - though obviously that’s part of it - but the ease of it. He liked the charm, and it’d be nice to see that again, but if that was all he wanted that’d be… easy enough to deal with. But what they have now, with their working dynamic, is a different kind of ease that occasionally gives Mike glimpses of the real Harvey behind all his shields. Not many, but a few. Real like the man asleep on his couch, or the closet Trekkie. (Mike likes to think closet sci-fi geek in general, and he’s pretty sure he’s right.) Like the times someone gets a genuine smile, or rarer still a grin, out of Harvey instead of his usual smirks.

 

But, hell, it’s not just the good stuff Mike wants, which would make more sense. He wants Harvey at times like this, when things are an awful mess. He wants to be able to be there, he wants to be allowed to help instead of having to stand and watch. He wants… He…

 

“Oh shit,” he says aloud as he gets into the elevator and slumps back against the wall. “Oh _fuck_.” He rakes a hand through his hair.

 

Suddenly, he remembers Anya teasing him about how he needed to not think about kinky office sex during work hours. If only that had been the thing to worry about, Mike thinks now. He’s been able, mostly, not to consider that, largely thanks to work Harvey being so different from Harvey in pick-up mode. But while Harvey’s slick facade helps keep Mike’s memories at bay, the flashes of someone almost ridiculously endearing in his own way behind it… That’s a different story. Mike didn’t expect it, certainly didn’t plan for wanting a closer look, wanting to be let in for both the good and the bad.

 

He didn’t expect to get hired by the guy he had a one-night-stand with almost a decade ago, but Mike was able to plan for how to handle it. The trouble is, he never planned for anything else. It didn’t occur to him he might fall in love with the man, and well…

  
Turns out _that_ is what he should have been coming up with a plan for. What the hell is he going to do?


	6. Is This Guy The Antichrist?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel Hardman rejoins the firm, and Mike knows something big is wrong here, but he's having a hard time getting any intel as to what.

Mike isn’t sure why it’s such a bombshell when Donna announces that ‘Alicia Hardman’ died. It’s the work of a few minutes on the Internet to find out who she is from the obituary - the wife of former Managing Partner Daniel Hardman. Which, Mike had already guessed she was related from the last name.

 

That doesn’t explain Harvey having closed-door meetings with Jessica again. It’s not the Cameron Dennis thing anymore - Harvey’s finally backed off - but whatever it is, it’s not good. So Mike tries asking Harvey when he goes to update him on the plagiarism case. “Oh, and, uh, what’s had you all edge since Donna told you about that woman dying?” He plays it like he has no clue who she was, just to be safe.

 

“That’s not your concern,” Harvey tells him. “Focus on your case and don’t worry about it.”

 

Mike knows a losing battle when he sees one, so he doesn’t press the point. He does, however, try Donna. But even a bribe of coffee doesn’t get him anywhere. “Mike, just leave it. It’s a long story, and you don’t really need to know,” Donna tells him.

 

“Donna, it’s clearly important.”

 

“It’s ancient history. Don’t worry about it.”

 

When Hardman actually comes back, with the snack table and all the rest, it gets even worse. It’s obvious that Harvey and Jessica are both furious about the new office being built and Hardman’s overtures to the associates. Mike will admit, if only to himself, that knowing this is precisely why he brings the slice of pineapple up to share with Harvey.

 

Harvey isn’t going to tell him anything, so Mike needles him by pretending to make a piece of fruit talk (let’s forget the fact that he also made a stealth love confession) and joking about how maybe Hardman is better than Jessica. He gets a little satisfaction from it; enough to begin to make up for his annoyance at being kept in the dark.

 

\----

 

Mike and Rachel meet up that Saturday at one of The Java Joint’s outdoor tables. It’s become a bit of a thing for them, since he insisted that he at least treat her to coffee after she helped with his housing case. And of course he took her to Bianca’s cafe - for one thing, he lives over it, and for another it is the best coffeehouse he knows of. It’s strictly a friends thing; Mike’s taken her at her word about not dating anyone from work. Especially since she’d be fully capable of taking him down with her high heels if he didn’t. Today, though, he’s got a bit of an agenda, so it’s not just coffee and chatting outside the office.

 

“Why are you asking me about Hardman?” Rachel asks.

 

“Harvey and Donna won’t tell me anything, but both Harvey and Jessica are acting like his being back is, I don’t know, the coming of the Antichrist or something. Is he that bad?”

 

Rachel sips her coffee. “I don’t know, really. I was only at the firm for three months before he left. I know he was more of a hardass overseeing the bullpen even than Louis, though.”

 

“Which wouldn’t explain the problem, because Jessica and Harvey wouldn’t give a shit about that.”

 

“No, they wouldn’t.”

 

There’s something about Rachel’s expression, her tone, that makes Mike suspicious. “Come on, Rachel, what aren’t you telling me?”

 

“Look, no one knew for sure. But - you know Pearson Hardman used to be Gordon, Schmidt, and Van Dyke, right?”

 

“Yeah. The three founders retired, so the story goes - except Schmidt, who went home to Atlanta and became a judge -  but really Hardman and Jessica forced them out, then they got their names on the door instead, right?”

 

“Right. And, sure, Hardman left to take care of his sick wife. That’s probably partly true. But here’s the thing. Within two days of him leaving? Because he left quietly, he left when it was announced basically. Anyway, when it all happened? A senior associate I was friends with, Monica Eton, she got fired and blacklisted. No one seemed to really know why. I thought it was because of Louis back then, but when I heard she got blacklisted I knew it had to have been Jessica, for some reason. She’s the only one with that kind of clout. At the same time, Jessica took Hardman’s office and gave hers to Harvey. Who also got a promotion from senior associate to junior partner.”

 

Mike is silent for a moment, taking in exactly what Rachel’s getting at here. “So what you’re saying is, you think Jessica and Harvey forced Hardman out, for pure ambition or some other reason, and Monica Eton got caught in the crossfire?”

 

“Pretty much. And what other reason would they need?”

 

That’s... actually a fair question, one Mike can’t answer because aside from Rachel, no one will _tell him_ anything.

 

\---

 

And then the nurses’ strike happens. Mike has a feeling from the first time Hardman summons him that there’s more in play here. Harvey’s dislike of the name partner has only gotten more obvious, and for all Hardman talks about needing a back-channel negotiator, it doesn’t escape Mike that he is now effectively caught between the two men. At first, though, he does think Harvey knows about it even though he’s not there and Hardman doesn’t outright say as much. It’s Harvey’s case, and Mike’s Harvey’s associate, so Hardman should have notified him.

 

Except the next morning, when he goes to Harvey to tell him what he learned about the nurses just wanting enough money to have a full staff again - and that’s totally reasonable, they just need ten percent of the equipment fund - it’s clear he didn’t. Oh, Harvey says all the right things, but his jaw is clenched and his eyes are dark. He’s not happy, not at all.

 

It’s not over either, because Hardman summons Mike again. He feels bad for the guy when he finds him smoking a cigarette in his wife’s memory, but it’s a good thing he has so many files to go through, because he’s starting to get pissed off now. It’s like the issue that crops up now and again with Louis; Mike can’t tell Hardman no, but he’s supposed to be Harvey’s guy and he knows Harvey isn’t going to be a huge fan of this. That doesn’t stop him from helping to come up with a plan, because they need this settled and honestly Mike thinks Harvey is going about this one the wrong way. He’s not sure what to make of Hardman, but his strategy seems better.

 

But Mike isn’t really surprised when Harvey blows into the conference room and shatters everything. He is, however, finally fed the fuck up. Because technically Harvey was right before when he said this wasn’t Mike’s business. That was before, when Mike had not been made into something to be tossed between the two of them. Now it’s different. “No, it’s a win because you beat Daniel. I work with you, I work with him, it’s not hard to see there’s something going on between you two!”

 

His outburst seems to surprise Harvey enough to stop him from replying right away, so Mike barrels on. “You do whatever you want, but I don’t ever want to be caught in the middle of it again,” he tells Harvey, and then walks out of the other man’s office. Mike means it too. If Harvey wants someone who will blindly do what he wants, who will happily be a chew toy, he shouldn’t have hired Mike in the first place and he knows that by now. So he leaves the office and goes back to his own desk, where a “bullshit” pro bono case is waiting for his attention.

 

It’s late by the time Mike is packing up to go, and just as he’s about to swing his bag onto his shoulder and leave, his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s a text from Harvey, telling Mike to come to the office. Mike sets his bag down with a sigh and heads upstairs. He finds Harvey standing at the window with a glass of scotch, apparently in full-on brooding mode again. It’s a thing he does, and usually Mike’s vaguely amused by it, but he’s still kind of annoyed right now. “You wanted to see me?”

 

“Yeah, Mike. Sit down.”

 

Mike sits on the couch and Harvey crosses the room to sit in the chair across from him. “I’m gonna tell you a story I should have told you the day Daniel came back. When Jessica and I found out he was stealing money from clients, he broke down. Told us he needed the money for his sick wife. Turns out, he needed it to support his mistress.”

 

Mike remembers his conversation with Rachel, and finds himself wondering if Monica Eton was the mistress in question, if that’s why she got fired. Though that seems kind of shitty, firing her basically for her taste in men - unless she knew about the money. He shakes off the thought and listens as Harvey continues.

 

“Now he says he’s changed. But a man who would do that is a man I find very difficult to trust.”

 

And maybe Mike shouldn’t ask it. But there’s other things he wishes he knew that he can never ask, and this question is just as important. And he’s wondered about it lately, even knowing that being shut out over the Cameron Dennis stuff and this probably wasn’t personal. It still stings, so he asks. “Do you trust me?”

 

Harvey looks at him, oddly intent. “That’s why I wanted you to know.” In other words, he told Mike because he trusts him.

 

“You think he’s going to try and take over again?” he asks after letting that sink in. Harvey trusts him, and Mike has seen that is a rare thing. It means a lot.

 

Harvey shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure, yeah. But, unfortunately, as long as he’s playing the nice guy card, there’s only so much to be done about it. But after this, I wanted you to be on your guard.”

 

“This is gonna suck, isn’t it?”

 

“I don’t know yet, Mike.”

  
Well, that does not sound promising.


	7. Tuxedo Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mike doesn't have a tux, and Harvey snoops a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I rearranged the chronology of the dialogue in 2.06; it just makes more sense to me this way for my version.

Technically, Harvey doesn’t need to bring Mike. He’s going to check on Keith and then enjoy a night out in Atlantic City. He doesn’t need an associate for any of that. He doesn’t need him, but there’s no reason not to have him either, so he might as well have Ray collect two tuxedos instead of one. He might as well stop at Mike’s apartment over his friend’s coffeeshop and bang on his door.

 

If some part of Harvey just wants to see Mike in a tux - and if that same part loves the idea of Mike in one of his tuxes, specifically - well, no one else has to know.

 

Harvey knocks, and the first response is Mike’s muffled yell, “I’m not here!” Harvey rolls his eyes and knocks louder, knowing that at some point he’ll get on Mike’s nerves enough to get a response.

 

Sure enough Mike answers the door a minute later, barefoot in black track pants and a grey Air Force t-shirt. “What are you doing here?” he asks Harvey, wide-eyed.

 

“Are you watching Different Strokes?” Harvey asks instead of answering, stepping into Mike’s personal space until his associate steps back and Harvey can get into the apartment.

 

“Well, it’s the touching story of a couple of orphans, so -”

 

“Don’t.” Harvey’s about to say something else when a quiet ‘mew’ draws his attention. He looks down to find a tiny calico kitten by his feet, peering up at him.

 

“That’s Cairo, he likes to investigate strangers,” Mike says absently.

 

“You named your cat after the capital of Egypt? Also, when did you get a cat, are you turning into Louis now?” Harvey isn’t really a pet person, and his first instinct when the kitten paws at his shoe is to draw back. But it’s not clawing at the leather, just kind of poking at him. So Harvey stays still for now - moving might bring out the claws.

 

“One of Anya and Bianca’s neighbors, their cat had kittens. They got one, and got another for me. And yeah, I named him Cairo; cats were sacred in Ancient Egypt, seemed like it fit,” Mike explains. And the thing is, Harvey thinks, that reasoning makes sense, for Mike anyway.

 

“You would think that. So, tell me, what self-respecting lawyer lives over a coffeeshop?”

 

“Oh, great, so did you come all the way over here just to criticize where I live, or...?”

 

“That’s a side benefit.” Harvey’s eyes land on a bong sitting on a shelf, and he remembers Mike saying back when the drug test mess happened that he hadn’t smoked pot in ‘over a year’. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says, picking up the bong and tossing it at Mike with a disgusted look on his face.

 

“That’s, uh, sentimental value, just put that away…” Mike mutters as he catches it, but Harvey’s already moved on.”

 

“Nice panda.”

 

“It was my grandmother’s.”

 

“Get your tux on. We’ve got a situation.”

 

“A situation that requires a tux. Where… Where is this tuxedo situation?”

 

“Atlantic City. Can you get dressed now?”

 

Mike rubs a hand over his hair and Harvey hides the smirk because, yep, called it. “I could…”

 

“But?”

 

“I don’t have a tux.”

 

Harvey rolls his eyes, mostly for effect and Mike huffs, irritated. “I’m not Bruce Wayne!”

 

“Don’t I know it.”

 

It’s Mike’s turn to roll his eyes, even as Harvey goes back to the door and opens it, gesturing to Ray who’s leaning against the limo waiting for just that signal. He rolls his eyes too and walks over with the spare tuxedo Harvey brought along. Mike raises his eyebrows. “So you were giving me shit just for the hell of it.”

 

“You expect any different? Get dressed, rookie,” Harvey says, shoving the garment bag at Mike.

 

Mike takes it and heads for his bathroom. He leaves the door cracked open enough to call through it, “I never needed one before, there’s such a thing as dress blues!”

 

“And you didn’t attend anything formal while at Harvard?”

 

“Between classwork and my paralegal job with the Boston D.A., didn’t have time.”

 

Harvey would point out that a smart person makes time for things like that, because networking is important in their world, but he’s distracted by the fact that he is, not quite alone but certainly unobserved in Mike’s apartment. He’s a little curious - and besides, though Mike didn’t get past the doorway he saw how much the kid wanted to see inside his place. He can’t have the same nosy streak?

 

The apartment is small, but the window has a view even Harvey admits is decent enough. Especially for a second-floor apartment. There are books everywhere. Mike has two bookshelves and they’re full, so there’s other books just stacked around in haphazard piles. And he’s got everything from history to science to novels - “Mike, why do you have the Twilight books?”

 

“Bought ‘em at a yard sale, I was curious. Got to the point where the vampire dude watches the girl sleep and gave up. I keep meaning to drop them off at the closest library, but I never get around to it.”

 

“Just throw them out!”

 

“I never throw out books, even ones like those.” Harvey rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything - that doesn’t actually surprise him at all. The kid quotes The Art of War; of course he loves books too much to throw any out.

 

The kitten’s climbed up on the small couch now, curled into a tiny ball and fast asleep. Harvey’s glad - means he won’t have to worry about tripping over it. He crosses the room to the wall by the kitchenette, where Mike has framed photos hung on the wall. One’s a wedding photo - a man in an Army dress uniform with Mike’s eyes and a woman in a simple white gown and hair the same shade of dark blonde as Mike’s. His parents, Harvey assumes, and the older woman in the photo next to it with a teenage Mike must be his grandmother.

 

He recognizes a younger Trevor in another shot, and scowls, though this version of the asshole seems less off-putting somehow. Then there’s one - it looks like a graduation photo, Mike with his arm around a girl’s shoulders - he recognizes the pretty brunette who served as one of Mike’s mock trial witnesses. They’re both wearing Air Force dress blues, standing straight and tall. He wonders who took the picture; maybe the blonde who stands next to her in another shot. This one Harvey can place - both women werar wedding gowns, though the brunette’s is a deep green and he only knows it’s a wedding gown by the design. There are others in the photo, including Mike; a wedding party photo, then. And, wait…

 

“If you don’t have a tux, what did you wear to your friend’s wedding?” he calls, even as his gaze turns to the last picture - he guesses these are Mike’s housemates from his Harvard days, three young women and one young man, a candid shot in their living room.

 

The bathroom door squeaks when Mike opens it. “That was rented,” he says, and he’s fully dressed except for the bowtie, which hangs undone around his neck. Harvey glances back at the photo - no tie. Typical. “So, you just carry around a spare tux for the random occasion?” he adds as the pair of them head for the door. Harvey snags Mike’s cane where it’s leaning by his messenger bag just by the door, and hands it to Mike, who rolls his eyes.

 

“Harvey -”

 

“Last thing I need is you falling over; bring it just as a precaution, rookie. As for the tux, something told me you’d need it. And by ‘something’ I mean common sense, and by ‘need it’ I mean, you’re an idiot.”

 

“Ha, ha,” Mike says as they get in the car. “So, why are we going to Atlantic City?”

 

“I have some documents that a client needs,” Harvey says, looking out the window as they drive over the Brooklyn Bridge.

 

“OK. Can I ask why you don’t just messenger them over?”

 

“No,” Harvey says, voice flat to discourage further questions. Of course, he should know by now how much that isn’t going to work on Mike, shouldn’t he?

 

“You know what I think? I think you’re still sore about Donna, you want a chance to blow off some steam, and you need a wingman.”

 

“Easy, Dr. Phil,” Harvey says, a warning edge to his voice. Especially since Mike’s not far off the mark with this one. Harvey does need to get away, get out of his head for a while, and how better than to go out to a casino for a night? At least Mike didn’t pick up on his ulterior motive involving seeing Mike in a tux. Harvey can count that as a small win - flyboy’s getting better at reading him, but he’s not perfect yet, thank God.

 

He glances away from the window, swallowing a laugh at how Mike’s struggling with the bowtie. He finally gets it tied, at least, turning to Harvey and saying, “How’s that?” Harvey rolls his eyes, because it’s awful. Crooked, uneven, it looks like the shoelaces of a kid just learning to tie their own shoes.

 

Harvey hesitates for half a moment, then reaches out and yanks it undone, taking the ends in hand and starting to retie it properly. This inadvertently tugs Mike a little closer than is strictly appropriate, enough that Mike’s breath tickles his skin and he can smell the kid’s knockoff cologne.

 

Harvey focuses on getting the tie done neatly, but he glances up before he lets go, and - He’s long since known that Mike’s attractive, that he is attracted to him. He’s also known that it’s never going to go anywhere; Harvey almost never takes up with anyone from work; Zoe remains the exception in that regard (and, technically, Donna, but they don’t talk about that) and that was because he was serious about her.

 

So he has no plans to make a move on Mike, but with their faces this close he knows something he didn’t before. If he did make a move, it wouldn’t be unwelcome. And damn if that isn’t going to make not doing it more of a challenge. Deliberately, Harvey lets go of Mike’s tie and sits back; Mike settles back into his original place as well. Harvey pretends not to notice that both of them are breathing just a little bit harder.

 


	8. Never Tell Me The Odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's mock trial time at Pearson Hardman. 1.07 tag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last scene I have planned, at least involving Mike and other Suits canons - though I'm not marking this complete because that could always change. I've got some ideas involving mild crossovers, but I feel I might do a separate fic for them. That said, if anyone wants to see AU moments from the pilot to 2.09 that I haven't done, I'm open to suggestions. Although I should note, any plots from the show directly caused by Mike's lack of degree simply don't exist here, so those won't work.

“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope,” Mike says when Anya opens the door. She takes off the reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose, eyeing him suspiciously as she lets him in.

 

“The last time you said that to me, you needed a witness for a mock trial back at the Academy.”

 

“Yeah, and this time I need you to be a witness at my mock trial at work.” The whole damn thing might be a joke, but if Mike’s got to do it, and it’s too late to get someone from inside the firm, he might as well ask Anya, who’s done this for him before. Granted, Bianca might get more of a kick out of it, but he still prefers Anya for this.

 

“Your job does mock trials?”

 

“That’s what I said. Seriously though, Anya, I already got played once by Kyle Durant. And I should have known better, because the asshole was a double-dealer at Harvard and he was mock trial champion on top of that, but I listened to Harvey and it didn’t end well.” Mike sinks onto the couch, rubbing at his knee.

 

“It would probably bug you less if you used your cane regularly like we both know you’re supposed to,” Anya points out sardonically. “OK, so, who am I playing?”

 

“So you’ll do it?”

 

“I shouldn’t, I do have a serious job, but I can take an hour. When do you need me?”

 

“Tomorrow?”

 

“You ass. Fine.” Anya holds out a hand for the papers he’s holding. “Let me see what this is all about.” Mike hands over the files and leans back, closing his eyes to review them in his mind while Anya reads them. He can’t get over how ridiculous this is, though - they’re not in school anymore, what the hell are they doing mock trials for? Harvey spouted off that crap about Kobayashi Maru or whatever the hell and Captain Kirk - he’s a Trekkie, who saw that coming? - but to Mike it just feels pointless.

 

\---

 

It occurs to Mike that maybe he should have asked Bianca instead only when Donna and Anya are sizing each other up with considerable interest. “So you’re the firm spymaster, according to Mike’s stories,” Anya says. “Anya Turner, nice to meet you. I’m the reason Mike survived our first year at the Academy.”

“Funny, I’m the reason Harvey survives at all,” Donna says, tilting her head toward Harvey’s empty office. Mike takes half a minute to wonder where his boss is - putting out the fires resulting from the hotel merger-that’s-actually-a-takeover? He can’t let himself wonder about Harvey right now, though, not when Donna and Anya are talking in low, conspiratorial voices. He steps closer, about to ask what they’re talking about, but he gets two Looks and promptly shuts up.

 

“And what’s going on here?” Harvey ask from behind him, making Mike all but jump out of his skin.

 

“I just introduced my Donna to, well, Donna,” Mike says. “I didn’t really stop to think this through…”

 

Harvey steps up next to him, looks at the women, then back at Mike. “So, that’s your other witness, I’m guessing? Who is she - in reality?”

 

“Anya went to the Academy with me. She’s a social worker these days. But she’s willing to spare an hour to help me out, joke or not.”

 

Harvey’s the one giving Mike a Look now, and Mike shrugs, fidgeting a little. “What’s a joke?” Harvey’s voice is mild, in a way it never is, which is enough right there to tell Mike that he’s skating on thin ice. Still, he holds his ground.

 

“Mock trials are things you do in school. Isn’t this the real world?” He’s fiddling with his Air Force pin as he says it, thinking that it’s really hard to care about games after living very much in reality. Harvey studies him for a moment, then rolls his eyes and strides into his office without a word to the still-chatting women. Anya breaks off enough to watch him, and then shoot Mike a truly wicked grin.

 

He knows she’s thinking about her office sex joke again, but he’s too busy trying to figure out that little conversation with Harvey to even wince about it.

 

\---

 

“You need anything?” Mike asks. “Otherwise I’m gonna head out.”

 

“Celebratory drinks with the associates?”

“Yeah.”

 

Harvey looks up, and Mike almost winces at the look on his face. “And what, exactly, are you celebrating?”

 

Mike sighs. “Save the disappointment, Harvey. I know what I did.”

 

“Do you? Because from what I saw, you backed off because you were worried about hurting your girlfriend’s feelings.”

 

Mike clenches his jaw. “Rachel is a friend. And it was a fake trial, Harvey. I weighed the pros and cons, and I wasn’t going to hurt a friend - and ally here at work - for something that isn’t even real. It’s not worth the result.”

 

Harvey stands, eyes cold as his voice when he speaks. “The result is you just told every partner at this firm, including me, that you have a weak stomach. That you don’t have what it takes.”

 

He sits back down, clearly dismissive, and Mike’s own temper flares up. “This is stupid! Why does it matter what I do when we’re all playacting, as long as I do the job when real cases are on the line? It’s a game, a mock trial, what’s the point of it?”

 

“The point is testing you in a risk-free situation. You might have to face down someone you know on the stand in reality one day, Mike. Will you back down then?”

 

“No!”

 

“You didn’t prove that today.”

 

“Because I stopped playing _games_ a long time ago.” Mike can feel himself snapping into military posture, back straightening and chin lifting.

 

Something flashes in Harvey’s eyes. “There it is. Right there. That’s the real issue here. You think you’re better than the others, that things like the mock trial and the rookie dinner are beneath you because you’re an ex-flyboy, because you’ve seen things the other lackeys can’t even picture. And you know what? You have. But you have to _earn_ the right to be good enough for this world, _in_ this world. And you haven’t.”

 

Mike doesn’t know what to say to that, is too angry to say anything that won’t get him in trouble. So he walks out.

 

\---

 

“He’s right, isn’t he?” Mike asks, after he finishes telling Bianca the whole story over coffee and her famous maple brown sugar muffins at a table in the back of The Java Joint. Bianca looks at him consideringly.

 

“You know Anya had that problem too, right? When she was getting her Master’s in social work a couple years back? She used to come home and rant to me about how her classmates were idiots who had no idea what things could really be like. I think some of it was being at the mercy of social workers who were clueless herself once, but some of it was definitely her time in the Air Force. And didn’t you get in a fight with an anti-war guy at Harvard?”

 

“Yeah,” Mike says, wincing at the memory. Jules had been the one to step in before Mike, flashing back on the aftermath of the roadside bomb, had taken a swing at the guy who was talking shit about soldiers. He could have heard the bastard trash the war, but not people who fought it, who just did their jobs and risked dying for it every damn day. She’d been sympathetic to that - much less so when Mike complained, like Anya had, about idiots in general who acted like everything would and should always come easy.

 

_“I know you’ve been through hell, but you’re also kind of on a high horse sometimes, and I may just knock you off it if you keep it up.”_

 

She’d never had to make good on that, because Mike had toned it down. Maybe he shouldn’t have, maybe Jules should have gotten the chance, because it looks like Harvey did it instead. “What was the trial about, anyway?” Bianca asks, breaking through his thoughts.

 

“Testing our skills, I guess, but - maybe I was a little shit about it, but I still don’t get why our real work can’t stand alone.”

 

Bianca drums her fingers on the table, sips her coffee. “Maybe because they can’t always see that in person?”

 

Mike… hadn’t actually looked at it that way. “I think I need to go for a walk.”

 

He really does just mean to walk, taking his cane along because he’s stubborn about not using it but he tries not to be totally idiotic about it. He’s got a lot to think about. He’s never consciously thought himself better than other people just because he served in the Air Force, but… He remembers all the times at Harvard when he rolled his eyes at one of his classmates, the times at Pearson Hardman where he’s had similar thoughts. When he thought that they wouldn’t be whining if they knew what it was like in Kabul, knowing the field agents might die and all you could do was hope you got the intel right so they didn’t. If they knew what it was like to lie on a road halfway to Kandahar, choking on acrid smoke and your own screams. He remembers how bitter those thoughts have always been, how arrogant really. Because he knows better, he knows everyone has their own hells to deal with, but somehow he…

  
Shit. Jules had been right, Harvey had been right. The only problem is, Mike isn’t entirely sure what to do about that.


End file.
